


Lady in Red

by hedahearteyes



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, i haven't a bastard's clue where this came from but i like it, inspired by chris de burgh's lady in red, lexa is pining, most of the gang makes an appearance but they're merely mentioned, they're sappy because they learned to speak with their eyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 11:14:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6077298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedahearteyes/pseuds/hedahearteyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You’ve known each other for years. So you realized her beauty years ago, you had watched her grow into a woman, a beautiful woman. But you’re still surprised every single time she shows up in a new dress that fits her perfectly. So you finish your drink and decide to steer from your usual course of events just once. </p><p>or</p><p>The one in which Clarke wears a red dress and Lexa has never seen her look as lovely as she did tonight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lady in Red

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to the song [Lady in Red](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vt2YIpZWBqA) by Chris de Burgh last night and as the Clexa trash I am, every single damn song reminds me of them. But I really liked the mental image that came with this song and so I wrote it. Also, don't take the setting too seriously, I know no one has dinners and galas eight times a year, but eh, creative freedom.

You’ve known each other for years. That’s what you get when your families are in the same business and you are continuously dragged to fancy dinners and extravagant galas.

As a young girl you enjoyed the attention – people always asked you about your braids and your new shoes and when you lost your first tooth and complained that the tooth fairy forgot to retrieve it from under your pillow, many of your parents’ friends had given you a dollar when they thought your parents weren’t looking. You left that particular evening with twenty-five dollars and huge, tooth-gapped grin.

As you grew older, you started to dislike the attention – people always asked you about school and your grades and what you wanted to become when you grew up. And when you had successfully answered those questions they would ask you when you’d start wearing dresses like your mother and the other girls.

 _Never_ , was your bitter pre-teen response, but you can’t say you didn’t stick by your words.

As you grew up, of course the other children grew up too. You never paid much attention to any of them; the only ones you actually liked being around during these events being Anya and Lincoln, because they were just like you – and they always sat at the table with you and your parents.  You always sat neatly and only spoke when addressed and so did they.

Not many of the men and women regularly attending these events had children; in fact you could count the kids you almost grew up with on one hand.

There were Bellamy and Octavia Blake, the only siblings and nearly attached at the hip – you later learned that was due to Bellamy being over-protective of his five years younger sister. She never minded being around her big tough brother with the cool older friends, but as she grew older and into puberty she started to show an interest in Lincoln, much to Bellamy’s dismay. His continuous shadowing of her started to unnerve her then and when Lincoln returned her interest, they started sneaking away during the dinners and galas.

There was Raven Reyes, who had shown from a very young age that she was of a certain intellect that surpassed yours and the other children her age. But despite her genius – now certified, she won’t ever let anyone forget that – she never forgot to be a kid. She was always the one running around and making trouble. As she grew older, she grew more discreet, but there was always something bound to happen when Raven accompanied her parents.

And then there was Clarke Griffin, who was probably the most radiant person you had ever met in your entire life. She was always polite and well-spoken, never left her seat unless granted permission and even at 9 managed to keep Raven in check. She was also the only one of all the children who actively went and sought out their attention.

She befriended Bellamy first when she was six – Bellamy just turned eight and you were seven – and when Octavia became old enough to be left in her brother’s care when she was five, she quickly befriended Octavia too.

She befriended Raven after she stopped her from making a bomb out of a glass of coke and a mentos mint and just like that they were the little group of four that always graced the dull events with genuine love and laughter.

Even Lincoln took a liking to her bright personality when he was twelve and she was eleven and he wore a bowtie to the annual end of the year dinner for the first time. She had told him that he looked dashing and he had blushed when he thanked her. After that they always spoke at least twice during the events, Lincoln sometimes seeking her out before she even got the change to come over.

Anya and you were a little tougher to crack. She had tried on numerous occasions and while, unlike Anya, you were actually interested in a friendship with her, you weren’t exactly interested in a friendship with the other kids.

People would say, more so as you grew older, that you were distant and anti-social. You still believe it was never like that, you just don’t enjoy being in crowds. Now, at twenty-five, you have become a lot better at hiding your discomfort, at pretending to enjoy everyone’s company. Back then you didn’t know how to, so you just sat in your chair and scowled without saying much.

Anya did the same, for much the same reasons, and while your scowl never seemed to shake Clarke, it was Anya’s glare that did the trick after a thirteen-year-old Clarke came up to talk for the fourth time.

It would be the last time. After that evening she always stayed on her side of the room, only sparing glances at your table occasionally.

Growing up you thought it was because of Lincoln, because he was her friend. But at eighteen you began noticing that she would still steal glances even when Lincoln was with her or out somewhere with Octavia.

So you began a sort of game, testing who would look the other’s way first and after a while of that it turned into testing who could hold the other’s gaze longer before looking away.

You never thought much of it, assumed it was because she was no longer interested in befriending you or Anya and probably a little shocked that not everyone she met instantly succumbed to her gorgeous blue eyes and bright smile.

You kept up your game for two years, but then one charity-dinner in May, Clarke didn’t show up alone. You were all nearly grown out of your teens – not counting Bellamy who was already 21 and proudly bragging as he took sips of his wine while the girls drank their soda – and none of you were strangers to dating. You knew this for a fact, because Lincoln often told you stories.

Raven had a boyfriend named Finn and had been with him since she was sixteen; Bellamy had a girlfriend when he was sixteen too but broke up with her a few months later when he went to college and was now happily single, Octavia was seeing Lincoln and Anya had expressed her disinterest in any romantic connection from the age of fifteen. And you had dated a few girls yourself, but none of them stuck.

Of Clarke you knew that she liked parties and wasn’t opposed to kissing boys she would probably never see again, but beyond that you weren’t aware of any steady boyfriends.

However that May, when she was nineteen and you were twenty, Clarke showed up with another beautiful blonde. If you hadn’t already accepted for yourself that you believed Clarke to be the most beautiful girl on the planet, then you would’ve said it of her.

Your attraction to Clarke became apparent to you soon after you started that stupid game of who would look at whom first. All those accumulated hours of staring at her had made you extremely aware of her beauty and soon you couldn’t deny that she made you feel things.

And then she showed up with a girl, hanging onto her all evening, laughing heartily at the stories she told, you even saw her place a chaste kiss at the corner of the girl’s lips and suddenly she made you feel all new things.

Jealousy and hope, you concluded. Clarke wasn’t as painfully straight as you had assumed, but she also wasn’t available.

That May was also the first time you spoke to her in nearly six years.

With all of you now being all grown up, the parents didn’t care much what you were up to. There was no more sitting at the table under parental supervision, there was no more handholding as you were excused for a bathroom break and there was no more asking where you were going.

So you found yourself at the bar, getting a shot of whiskey – your birthday was half a month away and your father allowed you drinks at home too, and besides, there was no more parental supervision.

You don’t remember seeing her coming up to you, but suddenly she was there and you held eye-contact for the longest time before speaking. A part of you thought you would never actually speak to each other, just always look and stare before going on with your lives.

But she was there, leaning against the bar, body angled towards you, smirking. Not smiling, that radiant smile that showed off her perfect teeth and made her eyes twinkle, no, she was smirking.

“Who’s the friend?” You asked, indicating your head in the direction of the blonde Clarke had momentarily left.

She looked surprised at first, as if she hadn’t expected you to ever speak either, then she looked something else you couldn’t identify, before smirking again. “Niylah.”

You looked back to the girl, looked her over, then swallowed hard before turning back to Clarke. “She’s pretty.”

“She is.”

You held her gaze for another moment, thinking of what to say, but you weren’t even sure what to say. Nothing of what you were actually thinking would make sense, would be justified, your jealousy was irrational.

For a split second you contemplated sharing how you felt, but quickly decided against that and instead just nodded once in acknowledgement of her feelings toward this Niylah.

“Have fun.”

Grabbing your glass, you turned around and walked away, back to the table, to Anya, but you felt her eyes burn your back.

She took Niylah to one more dinner, three months later and then you never saw her again, but you didn’t notice any change in Clarke. There was no lingering sadness, no slumped shoulders, her eyes still shone the same and her smile was still ever-present. You figured Niylah was simply too busy with whatever she did to accompany her girlfriend to dull dinners and galas.

Lincoln also never spoke of her to you, but that was probably because he and Anya weren’t blind to the way you looked at Clarke. Even with Niylah present you had kept up your game, though Clarke would look at you far less than she usually did. And you would look at her far more.

A full year after that first time you saw Clarke with Niylah and that first time you spoke again, you found yourself in the same position. Leaning against the bar, whiskey in hand, but this time you saw Clarke sauntering to you. You watched, unabashed, she held your gaze.

She mimicked her position from the year before as well, leaning against the bar, body angled towards yours, smirking.

You nodded your head in the direction she came from, “Where’s the girlfriend?"

“Not sure. She’s not my girlfriend anymore.”

You swallowed and then nodded once in acknowledgement of what she had said. And then you held her gaze again, like you always did. It occurred to you then that if you knew her and she knew you, maybe you could learn to speak with simply your eyes.

Then you heard her sigh, saw her shoulders slump only briefly before she perked up again and grinned as she took your glass from between your fingers.

She threw back the shot in one big gulp and slammed the glass back on the bar.

“Well then, have fun.” And then she turned around and walked away. You wondered if she could feel your eyes on her back like you had felt hers on yours.

From that moment on something changed. _She_ changed. When she caught your stare, she’d smirk. When you caught her stare, she’d grin.

Every dinner and every gala you would share one glass of whiskey and no words at the bar before going back to your respective table and friends.

You learned her exact birthday from Lincoln in passing, because it happened to coincide with the annual Winter-ball – previous years her birthday had fallen way before the ball, but this year the event was pushed up due to circumstances you didn’t know nor cared for. You had gone up to congratulate her, the only time you had ever spoken to her with her friends present.

Of course none of them had been blind to your stare matches and odd meetings at the bar, but they were still surprised to see you speak to her. She however had smiled brighter than ever before and when she thanked you, you heard her say your name for the first time.

Every year since then you would congratulate her during the Winter-ball, even though her birthday had since passed, her smile and the way she’d say your name was reason enough to keep doing it.

That was two-and-a-half years ago, two of Clarke’s birthday’s ago and not much, except for a few small things, had changed. You still stare, but now you actually pine after her; you still meet at the bar, but now you actually smile at her, sometimes even smirk; you still don’t speak, but now you know her a little bit and you learned to read her eyes like she has learned to read yours.

Now here you are, at the annual Summer-ball, twenty-five and still not brave enough to tell the girl you like that you want her. By now, you’re pretty sure she wants you too, but one nagging thought is holding you back.

_What if she just wants me for a day, a night, an hour?_

You want her for forever.

So you realized her beauty years ago, you had watched her grow into a woman, a beautiful woman. But you’re still surprised every single time she shows up in a new dress that fits her perfectly.

Tonight she’s wearing red and the dress hugs her curves in a way no dress ever has. Her lips are the same color and on any other woman it would have been obnoxious, but not on her. Her hair is curled and cascading down her shoulders, framing her face and bouncing with the shake of her head as she laughs.

You’re at the bar, she meets your gaze across the room and with her eyes she tells you she’ll be there soon. You let her know you’ll be waiting.

But the room starts to crowd with more couples dancing and as she leaves her friends, she’s pulled into conversation after conversation, man after man asking her to dance. You see her shake her head each time, still always polite.

Twenty minutes later, you’re still waiting and you’d wait forever for her to make it to you, if you didn’t see her grow slightly uncomfortable.

Finn is chatting her up, while Raven is on the other side of the room talking to Bellamy, and you know Clarke can handle herself, but you don’t like the tense set to her shoulders and the way she tries to inch away from him only for him to inch closer.

So you finish your drink and decide to steer from your usual course of events just once. You stride over to them and place a hand on Finn’s shoulder, effectively making him step back and allowing Clarke some space.

“I’m sorry, but I’m borrowing Clarke.” And then you put your arm between them as you angle your body towards Clarke and away from Finn. She immediately relaxes and turns to walk away towards the bar, you follow silently.

And then, nearly away from the dancing crowd, she turns around, she steers from your usual course of events as she grabs your right hand. In the same second she steps closer to you, rests her free hand on your shoulder and you instinctively place your own free hand on her back.

Slowly you start swaying to the music and it isn’t long before she steps even closer, her hand resting at the back of your neck, playing with the small hairs there, and you lower your hand to press her close.

You’re cheek to cheek, you can hear her breathe next to your ear and the crowd disappears, the room falls away and it’s just you and her and if this is your hour, you’ll cherish it forever.

“I’ve never seen you looking as lovely as you do tonight.” You whisper and you hear her breath hitch and you think maybe this is it. Maybe this is when everything changes.

And maybe it isn’t. Maybe it’s just tonight. This one night when she is beautiful in her red dress and she’s dancing with you and there is nowhere else you’d rather be.

You hardly know her, she hardly knows you, but you know with absolute certainty that you’ll never forget the way she looks tonight.

And that is when it hits you.

_“I love you.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Please head over to my tumblr, [hedahearteyess](http://hedahearteyess.tumblr.com/) to chat and please leave me your prompts.


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